A Different Kind of Theft
by rYazUKi
Summary: A girl, without any guidance, alone in the streets of Italy. Her last resort to survive- theft. Fang, a rich American boy visiting. Neither can stand losing, both have to win. What will happen in the face off?
1. Meeting

**Hey people. LOL okay I had this dream and I just had to turn it into a fanfiction. As always, here is my chapter 1. LIVE LIFE PROUDLY! BTW Italian translations at bottom.  
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**Disclaimer: I am not James Patterson and do not own Maximum Ride. In my dreams though, I am Maximum Ride. * awkward silence *  
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I sprinted through the urban streets of Venice, Italy, ducking through alleyways with my distinctive blonde hair flying in the breeze. Outrunning people has always been easy for me, probably since I had been doing it all sixteen years of my life. Laughing, I hid in a dilapidated movie theater until the man chasing me passed by. Opening the door with a key, I walked into the large, abandoned room, which was housing four people at the same time. Iggy, the blind one, Gazzy, an eight year old, Angel, the "innocent" one, and me, Max.

"HA! Got another wallet!" I shouted, my happiness contagious, as Angel ran up to me and hugged me, looking up at me with her wide blue eyes. My friends and I live here in Italy, but unfortuanetly, everything costs money. So, we all have to earn our money, right? We just do it a less "conventional" way.

"All right! Maximum Ride, master pickpocket!" the fifteen year old Iggy cried out, his unseeing eyes gleaming. Yeah, we all can steal, but, in all modesty, I am the best at it. Iggy can bargain like the spawn of freaking Satan himself, which makes sense, because he probably is. Gazzy has, well, excellent "interrogation" methods. Let's just say, his name is well-deserved. And last, but definetly not least, we have little four year old Angel, with curly, blonde hair and large, blue, puppy-dog eyes. She IS the ultimate weapon. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY can resist the bambi stare. In the corner, near the curtains, lives Total, Angel's DOG. (I told you, NOBODY can resist her bambi eyes. Its almost like she has mind control powers.) **[A/N- fail Max. Ride reference]**

"Hey Iggy. We gotta go buy some stuff. Let's go. Gazzy you're in charge, you know what to do." We can leave the kids here alone. It might be surprising to some people, but we mature very fast on the streets. Iggy and I were left alone at age seven. Our parents were good friends, and we were vacationing together. A car crash took them, we were lucky enough to have survived with little damage. But, whatever. You live, you learn. Angel and Gazzy are sister and brother, as represented by the whole blonde hair, blue eyes fiasco- which makes all of us very recognizable in the midst of all of these Italians. Well anyways, Iggy and I found them huddled together on a street corner, Gazzy five and Angel one. Gazzy will only say that they ran away, nothing more. We go to the same person all the time to trade for stuff. Only a croof would trade to a ragtag bunch of kids. He tries to cheat us like hell, but Iggy knows when he's trying that without him even seeing it. He's damn awesome. But never tell him that. He has too musch of an ego as it is.

Well, I'm Maximum Ride, AKA Max. Any sexual comments about my name, and I will kick your ass. And trust me, I can do so. I have blonde hair, brown eyes, and wear a tank top and a pair of ratty jeans I bought about a year ago. Damn these people who carry fucking credit cards. What's wrong with carrying around a bunch of cash- especially so children can take it and afford to buy a DECENT JACKET NOWADAYS? Well, I have a jacket, but it gets so damn cold here that it might as well be a shirt. Anyways- no matter what I wear, I'm still the fastest sprinter you'll ever see. In your life. If you ever see me. Half the time, people don't even notice their wallet's being taken. Retarded tourists. The other half, well, let's just say it pays to be pretty damn fast. And here, it is definetely survival of the fittest. We do all we need to to live.

"Maxy? Heloooo?" Iggy waved his hand in my face.

"HOLY FUCKING GOD IGGY! Patience is a virtue, you know?" I respond cynically. That's another thing you should know about me. Sarcasm- my best friend.

"That's exactly why I don't give a damn. Now get your fat ass out this door already and let's leave, God damn it."

"I'll ignore that last comment. You better be happy that I'm in a good mood today." Walking out in the chilly November air, the wind nipped at us as we dashed to the shop as fast as possible. Closing the door behind us, we walked up to Jeb Batchelder, the storekeeper. "Jeb. Hai qualcosa degno di acquistare, come alcuni prodotti alimentari secchi, ecc? Voi sapete ciò che ci piace." I whispered to him.

"Cercate voi stessi. Ho da fare adesso." Jeb replied absent-mindedly, while jotting some notes down. Jeb used to be a scientist, and some habits can't be broken, I guess. Grabbing Iggy by the arm, I pulled him with me into the food section. We looked (well I looked, letting him know what I saw) around for a while, grabbed a bunch of canned or dried food, and walked back to Jeb. Laying everything on the counter, he took one look and charged us 4 euro's for the stuff.

"Facciamo due e ti sei preso un affare." I tell him, making myself look more menacing than I usually do. Jeb shook his head, only willing to accept four. Iggy reluctantly nodded, as I took the wallet I found out of my pocket. Dumping its contents on the table, I find just about seven euro's, pay Jeb four, and we escaped the shop quickly. Jeb always gave me the creeps."

"Hey Ig, can you take the stuff back? I'll be back soon." I muttered to him, and then lost myself in the crowd.

**Fang POV**

I closed my ears and sighed as Nudge went on another damn rand about the new clothes she bought for our vacation to Italy. Nudge, my adoptive sister, has chocolate brown skin, even browner eyes, and pink lips. She likes to talk a lot. And by lot, I mean LOT. I'm Fang- and I hate to talk. Do not try to make me talk, or I will kick your ass in one move. I've learned kung fu for a long time. I live in California with my mom, dad, and Nudge, but we're taking a two month vacation in Venice. We're damn rich, and my parents don't give a rat's ass about the cost of anything.

"Nudge. Shut the fuck up." I throw at her, keeping my face straight while she pouted.

"BUT FANGY-POO! You know how much I love to talk. If I shut the F-U-C-K up, oh and Fang, mom said you can't say bad words like that anymore, remember, then I won't be able to talk, and I really love to talk. almost as much as I love all the new clothes I got, just like the top and jeans I'm wearing. Why don't you like new clothes Fang? Don't you like going shopping? I love going shopping, especially for pink stuff, because you know that I just love pink! If you went shopping, you would probably only shop for black stuff. Your room's painted black, all your clothes are black, your bookshelf is black, your iPod is black, your phone is black, and your hair's black and-" I clamped my hand over Nudge's mouth.

"Nudge. Shut the fuck up or I swear to God I will stab you."

"OH MY GOD FANG IT'S A MIRACLE! YOU SAID MORE THAN SIX WORDS!" Nudge exclaimed, but as I glared at her, she began again. "Sorry Fang, I'll shut up." Nudge took out an imaginary key, pretended to zip her mouth, and then threw the imaginary key at my face. I rolled my eyes and plugged in my earphones.

"Nicholas!" that was the major bitch. My mother. "Are you ready to leave yet?"

"Yes mother dearest!" I respond in a sickly, sweet voice. My mom and I were not at very good terms at this point. I grabbed my backpack (black of course) and jumped down the stairs of our mansion. I glared at my mother, her eyes the only natural part of her. Her skin on her face was stretched from many plastic surgeries. Her thighs were wrinkly (liposction), but she still refused to wear decent clothing (meaning not shorts) in public. As I've already mentioned, my parents are damn rich, so we can look like whatever we want, and people will still pretend to like us. Oh the joys of the wealthy class. All my dad does is work, all my mom does is spend all the money my dad earns, and I cfan pretty much do whatever the hell I want. Did I mention, we're so rich and paranoid, we don't take the airport like normal people do. We take our fucking private JET. Why the hell do we have to be so damn rich. I walked into the plane and sat on a chair such that I was completely isolated from the rest of my family. In solitude, I drown myself in music from my iPod. Not that Justin Beiber shit kids listen to these days, I'm talking Greenday and Nirivana. Thank God, one more year and I can legally move out of the house.

**14 hours later**

I hate Italy. I've been here what, seven hours, and they've already been the worst God-damn hours of my fucking life. After sitting in my hotel room (I got one all to myself) for the past seven hours, I chuck my wallet into my pocket, ditch my hotel room, and decide to go check out some restaurants. I'm fucking starved.

This city is fucking messed up. All the god-damn statues everywhere, following every move you make, hearing every word you speak. It freakes the crap out of me. One thing I hate- control. I hate people thinking they can control whatever I do and what I say. A girl bumped into me. Apologizing fast in Italian, she walked away. My left jeans pocket felt a little lighter. _Crap. She took my wallet. FUCK THIS ALL. At least I can catch up with a what, sixteen year old girl, easy. _However, sprinting after her was not as easy as I thought. There were millions of god-damn alleyways here, and she could have taken up of them. I suddenly caught sight of a flash of gold curls. _Got ya. _I caught up to her, after running my fucking ass of, but after glancing at her, she didn't seem like the losing type. Putting on a burst of speed, I caught the girl by surprise and pushed her against the wall. Glaring at me, she panted, her chocolate eyes furious.

"Who the hell are you? And why do you have my fucking wallet?" I asked. Her eyes narrowed as she replied to me in Italian what I can only assume to be insulting.

"Fottiti bastardo. Ottenere l'inferno fuori di me prima che io a calci in culo dispiace per tutto il tragitto di dove diavolo sei venuto." she hissed at me. In her hand, she still held the wallet, and I grabbed it from her.

"Three words. I. Always. Win." I stated arrogantly, my smile wider than my face. But her hand reached her back pocket, and it was too late for me. She pulled out a switchblade, and turned the tables on me. Pressing it heavily against my neck, she whispered four words, in perfect, unaccented English, as her body melded in with mine agains the wall. "And I never lose." her brown eyes flicked with anger, hatred, and was that a hint of amusement in her? With blonde hair flying and a crazy glint in her eyes, she looked like a fallen angel. All that was missing were the wings. She grabbed my wallet, pulled away the blade, and sprinted away like a gazelle. Nobody looking at her could even imagine what she had just done. _I will get my wallet back. It's not about the money anymore, I never lose, not if it's my last thing I do. _I put my hand on my neck, still feeling the cold glint of the steel. _And with her, it very well may be. _Smiling grimly, I think to myself, _Maybe this vacation won't be so bad after all._

**Max POV**

Kicking a brick wall, I scream in frustration. _How the hell did I let a FUCKING TEENAGE BOY, PROBABLY MY AGE, CATCH ME? FUCK THIS! _As much as I tried, though, I couldn't get his face out of my head. His olive skin, the toned muscles as he pressed against me, his dark, unruly hair flopping into those grey, thoughtful eyes. And those three damn words. "I always win." _Fuck what the hell am I saying? _He's going to come back. He can't stand losing. I know because I'm like that too. I always win. And when he comes back, I'll be ready. Just. You. Wait. As I walked into our "secret hideout" as Angel liked it to be known, my mood turned from grey to stormy as I realized what was wrong. Where were Gazzy, Iggy, and Angel? _Shit. And just when I thought life couldn't get ANY DAMN BETTER._

**I like my Max in this. She just seems really- funny... I hate Angel and Max in real life though- like in James Patterson's books. I love Iggy. PYRO'S MUST STICK TOGETHER! ;D Soo... please say what you liked/hated/loved/whatever else. Which POV worked better? Please help me! ;D LOVE YA PEOPLES! **

**ITALIAN TRANSLATIONS IF YOU WANT TO KNOW: **

Jeb. Hai qualcosa degno di acquistare, come alcuni prodotti alimentari secchi, ecc? Voi sapete ciò che ci piace : Jeb. Got anything worthy to buy, like some dried food, etc? You know what we like.

Cercate voi stessi. Ho da fare adesso : Look for it yourself. I'm busy right now.

Facciamo due e ti sei preso un affare : Make it two and you've got yourself a deal.

Fottiti bastardo. Ottenere l'inferno fuori di me prima che io a calci in culo dispiace per tutto il tragitto di dove diavolo sei venuto : Fuck you bastard. Get the hell off of me before I kick your sorry ass all the way back to wherever the hell you came from.


	2. Lessons

**Yo peoplez. I am so bored so I've just decided to write. This story's pretty fun to write. THANKS FOR THE REVIEWZ PEOPLES! ;D Everyone loves FAX. ;D Although there was no real FAX Fax, there was a little. So good bye thanks for reviewing! Oh yeah btw... Sorry for the long wait. Much busyness. I shall give my lame excuse at the end.  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride, James Patterson does. I don't I wish I did but I'm not good enough to write that. Without too many cuss words.**

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In review:

_Max POV_

_Kicking a brick wall, I scream in frustration. How the hell did I let a FUCKING TEENAGE BOY, PROBABLY MY AGE, CATCH ME? FUCK THIS! As much as I tried, though, I couldn't get his face out of my head. His olive skin, the toned muscles as he pressed against me, his dark, unruly hair flopping into those grey, thoughtful eyes. And those three damn words. "I always win." Fuck what the hell am I saying? He's going to come back. He can't stand losing. I know because I'm like that too. I always win. And when he comes back, I'll be ready. Just. You. Wait. As I walked into our "secret hideout" as Angel liked it to be known, my mood turned from grey to stormy when I realized what was wrong. Where were Gazzy, Iggy, and Angel? Shit. And just when I thought life couldn't get ANY DAMN BETTER._

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Fuck this all. Fuck this all. Fuck life. FML. Fuck that one dude who's wallet I got. And where the hell are Iggy, Gazzy, and Angel? They were probably off galavanting away somewhere not even caring that I almost got killed. Ugh. Okay. I gotta stop PMSing like this. And it's not even my time of the fucking month. Think Max. Think. Where would three pickpocketing American kids living in Italy go? Crap we are a messed up bunch. Umm? St. Mark's Square probably. Easiest place to hide and filled with millions of fucking tourists with no life. Ah, how I love my life. Please note the sarcasm. As I casually waltz to the square, I still keep my eye out for the olive-skinned boy. His feet barely touched the floor when he ran, like an eagle flying, although that is kind of how Angel describes me. "Floating through the air like some avenging angel of death." I used to just laugh and say "Kind of a grubby looking angel. Desperately in need of a shower." But Angel refused to laugh, only staring at me with her ominous blue eyes. Angel and Gazzy grew up way too fast. They're so little and have more responsibility than most adults do.

While walking, my eyes fell upon an old cathedral. Churches and places are where we get our candles. (If God really is as forgiving as people say, He probably won't mind one of His children trying to live... Right? Either that or hell better be pretty damn awesome. With chocolate. Then I'm fine.) But this church looked like it hadn't been used in centuries. The normally beautiful, ornate stained-glass window paintings of Jesus and Mary (see. I know something.) were broken and shattered, dirt covering them. The rich, mahogany color of the paint had faded away, and the spires, stretching up to touch the hands of God himself, seemed more like a prison. How the hell (or heaven) had I not noticed this before?

Sitting outside one of the towers, seemingly piercing the lonely grey sky like daggers, lay an old man, petting a Labrador who looked as ancient as him. A sign above the bucket read, Dio vi benedica , or God bless you, in hopes of receiving even meager amounts of cash. There were so many elderly who needed assistance, as did many children. Does God truly exist? How would He leave so many of His children for starvation and trouble? Why is there so much evil in the world? I know that stealing could be considered evil, but we steal only to live and from those who could afford it. We're not murderers. But I am only human. I hate, I want people to die. Like that boy i met. But that could be because I don't know him. He is one of the few people I don't understand. Trying to beat me, his eyes shined with excitement, but he seemed to be a rich spoiled brat. Or a rebellious goth teenager. Ugh! Why does my mind keep drifting to him. Fucking goths. Fucking wanna-be badass teenagers.

"Max! What are you doing here?" Angel ran up to me and smiled. Ruffling her blonde curls kindly, I grin back. She was possibly the only person who could entice out of me one of my true smiles.

"Hey Ange. Where's Iggy? I need to kick his ass." I tried to avoid cussing near Angel (but it was necessary at times), because she picked up words like hell. I heard her ask Gazzy after one of my bitching sessions what a 'damn asshole' was. I take full responsibility for teaching her that phrase. This one slutty blonde bimbo started screeching at me when I accidentally [cough] bumped into her and her shiny pink purse.

"I thought he was with you!" Angel sweetly responded, her hands folded perfectly. It made me almost sick at how such cuteness could force me to do anything.

"Crap." I swore, not caring Angel was right there. She probably knew not to learn from me anyways.

"Don't worry Max! I'm pretty sure he's already back home."

"I hope so Angel, I bet he is." I wasn't that worried about Iggy, I'm just on edge after the 'incident' which must not be mentioned again.

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Iggy pov

Where the hell am I? I guess I'm near the canals, cause I can hear water rushing. But where the FUCK do I go from here?

"Hai bisogno di aiuto ?" A deep voice, speaking in heavily accented Italian, startled me out of my pondering. After living in the street for so long, I was definetly wary of other poeple. Trust is not something given out easily here.

"Nope, don't need any help. I'm waiting here for my mom. You do speak English right?" I cheerfully pop out of my mouth. His voice wounded deep, not like a man's, but a teenager's. Maybe fifteen? Sixteen? By how he walked, he seemed to almost graze the ground only, being light and thin. "What's your name?"

"Tom. You sure you don't need any help?"

"Yeah... I've been living here for a while now." I replied evasively. This kid was starting to creep me out. A smile played upon my lips. I decided to scare the kid a little. "Look kid. You're in Italy now. Home of the maffia. You don't come up to random blind, white kids. For all you know, I could be in a gang. I could be a gang leader. I could kill you right now." I flashed him a winning smile, and I could almost hear him wanting to pee in his pants.

"I could take you down." His childlike voice rang through, full of arrogance and a whisper of fear. How bitchy could these tourists be? And predictable. Time to teach this wimpy kid a lesson. Better he learn it from me than from someone who would really hurt him. Maybe this lesson could save his life one day. If I just like injure him slightly, he'll exercise more caution around these parts. I wasn't lying. People could kill him without even blinking. MAX would kill him without even blinking. Imagine him saying this to Max. She'd turn all red (not that I can see, Angel and Gazzy laugh at her about it all the time), and bitch slap him. Now that would be a sight to see. Or hear. My grin faded. Life sucked. I played off me being blind as if I didn't care, but it's not like I was born blind. I knew what I was missing. This wasn't the only life I was used to. I lunged for the kid, my anger taking the best of me, and twisted him arm slightly, bringing him down to his knees. He cried out in pain, but nobody came running. He didn't even know how to fight back. Defenseless much? God damn it he had a lot to learn. I whispered into his ear, "Still think you can take this blind guy down? Learn some martial arts. And some manners. Then come back here." I let him go, and he slunk off, probably cradling his arm to his chest like a baby. At least he won't run into a gang anymore. I did feel kind of bad but MEH. The kid gotta learn. Grabbing my grocery bags, I walk in the direction the kid ran off in.

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Reaching home, I find Max standing there, probably in her usual pose of hand on him, scowl on face.

"WHERE THE FUCKING HELL HAVE YOU BEEN IGGY?" she screamed at me. I detected DEFINITE negative vibes from her. "It's been over ONE FUCKING HOUR since you left God damn it!" It's been that long? I blame the kid.

"Well, I spend about thirty minutes, no FOURTY in a brothel, having hot sex with a prostitute named Brigid. She seemed smexy. What do you think my whore name should be? Lady love, or Smexy Stuff?" I could almost feel her trying to hide a smirk. She slapped her hand on her forehead, and grabbed the bags from me.

"You're such a bitch Iggy."

"BITCH! QUEEN BITCH! That's it! Best prostitute name EVER!" I yell, pumping my fist in the air. I detected a Maximum Ride patented eye-roll at this point in time.

"Asshole Iggy."

"Nah. I like bitch better."

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Fang POV

Ok. I'm back at my hotel. What do I do? Go look for the girl? She could be anywhere. She's such a sarcastic bitch, I can tell by her face, but she's probably my only sort of entertainment for the next two months. Imagine her face when I get my stuff back. She would be so damn pissed, her delicate features contorted into a scowl. She's so much like a spoiled brat, only not so spoiled... I would probably have to fight her for it.

"Hey FANGY POOO! Why are you smiling? You never smile. The last time I saw you smile was probably when you were still with Lissa. I hated Lissa. She was a skank. She dressed in mini-skirts so high you could see her underwear. But that was when you smiled. OHMAIGAWD FANG! Did you like, find a hot girl or something? OHMAIGAWD WHAT AM I SAYING OF COURSE YOU DID YOU WOULDN'T SMILE OTHERWISE! Fang has a girlfriend, Fang has a girlfriend! Ohmaigawd you SO need to get her something. Like DIAMONDS! Girls love diamonds and jewelry and clothes and PINK! I love pink! No wonder! I'm a GIRL! Now if a guy liked pink, that would be just weird." Sighing I cover my ears as Nudge rambled on. Imagine that GIRL in pink. She would probABLY faint or die. Or stab someone. I would go with the latter. Girl's who weild deadly switchblades easily do not wear pink. Neither do girls who can run faster than me. "OHMAIGOOOOOSH FANG! You're still smiling and haven't told me to shut up yet! You DO LIKE A GIRL! I mean, what girl wouldn't like you though. You're HAWTTT. Does that sound weird coming from your sister? I think it does, but its not an opinion, it's a fact. I mean the part about you being hawt in like a bad-boy way, not the part-"

"Nudge. Stop talking." It's true though. I am badass.

"Okay Fang. Sorry I tend to get out of control sometimes because-" Nudge was silenced by death glare number four. It's my glare. You can't steal it. Rawr. Or I shall eat you. Although I might not act like it, I do love my sister. Even though she's annoying sometimes. All the time.

I was soon lost in my own torrid fantasies again. Did I just think that? God I'm such a perv. How do I find the girl though? Where would a runaway live? Somewhere old or where nobody would suspect someone. Or, I could just go out in the square and hope to bump into her and follow her home. (That sounds so damn stalker) Yeah though. That's what I'll do.

I walk out into the freezing Italian air, but I refuse to put on a sweater. I shall beat the earth. Pigeons flock all around me as I shiver, and I see my breath receding in the air. Anyone who takes more than a second glance as me receives glare number two, my second worst. They don't deserve glare 1. They aren't good enough for it. Nobody is.

Gazing around, my eyes instinctively fell upon a pice of obviously dyed red hari. BUT, red hair was my fetish. I loved it. Doesn't everyone have a fetish? Some people like chocolate, yet others like green eyes, and some people like shaved pink rats (long story- do not ask). When the girl turned around, I saw possibly the most plastic face I have ever seen, worse than my mom. And what's worse, she was my age. Curling my upper lip in disgust, I keep walking, hoping to catch a glimplse of wild, wind-blown, blonde hair or the picturesque, honey warm eyes that would not leave my thoughts.

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**SO GUYS! Sorry for not updating... I had high school junk like applying, testing, honors classed blah dee blah blah blah. I finally got accepted with all honors! ;D -smiles-**

**So hope you liked my chapter. I will probably never go that long without updating again, and sorry if I lost some reviewers, but I hope to get up to 15? Please! Free virtual Fang dolls! With Italian accents... ;D**

**Be happy for the slightly longer chapter and REVIEW! XD PLEASE! You don't want to see me beg. It's not pretty.**

**Review and I'll send you a TEASER for the next chapter! ;D  
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